Freedom: the Lark and the Greenfinch
by Ha ha I'm so alone
Summary: When Jean is sent back to prison Cosette's world is sent tumbling down. Forced onto the streets of London things worsen when a certain Judge offers her work in his house… but a newly found friendship and a huge turn of events could change everything. When Jean is sent to prison old demons twist him and he fears for his child… but he soon meets a man in a very similar situation.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello! before we start, I would like to just say that this is a very AU universe, but the most striking thing about it is that before this time, Johanna and Sweeney Todd have met. Basically, all you need to know is that they have a strong bond with one another, but Sweeney is in prison once more so Johanna still resides with the judge. **

**We start with Valjean and Cosette arriving in England, set sometime after One Day More. **

**Enjoy!**

_London's Docks, 1825_

Cosette stood to the side of the ship, her knuckles white on the wooden railings, ribbons of hair fluttering to her throat and shoulders. She looked upon her new home of London with a grim observation; the sky was bleached black, plumes of cloudy gray smoke clogged the throat of chimneys and the water sloshed darkly at the edges of the boat. She looked an almost virgin white against the brown rotting flesh of the boat; a vision of purity, tainted by the ugliness of London town.

Valjean approached slowly behind her, placing the palm of his hand on her shoulder. She released a small sigh as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and dropped her head. 'Papa,' she said solemnly.

'Almost there now; look,' he pointed forwards, where the Tower Bridge slowly parted in front of them. Tilting her chin to the black sky, Cosette tightened her grip on the railings as wind forced more hair to part from her face. Feeling the boat slow, she let go of the railings promptly, watching as it turned into the shaded docks. Ropes were flung, zigzagging in the space between the boat's edge and the side of the docks; the walls were high, made of some gray stone that had been eroded over the years. Cosette felt her father tense as two policemen in navy blue uniforms casually sat upon the pavement blowing smoke out through their mustached lips.

Easing their way into the tide of people, Valjean took their bag by its handles and ushered Cosette forwards, along the plank of wood that led to the pavement. Keeping her head down the whole way, Cosette felt sick to the stomach as she was slowly led up the planks of sagging wood that hovered uncertainly over the blackened water of the Thames. Her head was spinning as she placed one foot on dry land, the stillness of the ground a great contrast to the rickety ship that she and her father had inhabited for the past month. Her thighs felt like jelly as she weaved one shaking hand through the loop of her father's arm, and the two made their way into the pandemonium of London's streets.

The floor was a dulled brown sludge, and it didn't take long for Cosette's shoes to be coated in the stuff. She felt sick. 'Hungry?' Valjean asked. Cosette nodded.

He kept her at the docks and bought her a thin slice of bread and butter for half a penny, knowing that if he were to buy bread in Covent Garden he would have to pay almost double. There was the small glow of a fire there, where swarms of people had packed tightly, trying to get their fill of heat. Cosette watched them sorrowfully; many were children, although there was an assortment of prostitutes and beggars there; the dull rainbow of humans. Sighing, she bit into the limp bread, huddling close to Valjean for warmth. Large bullets of rain had begun to pelt from the watercolor sky as her unexposed arms turned a pure white and she shivered ferociously. Jean sighed sadly, placed one warm hand on her back. It was obvious that his girl was biting back stubborn tears. 'How about we have a little look around?' he suggested, trying to inject any variation of enthusiasm into his voice. Again, Cosette nodded, knowing that her father was just as lost as she was. He shot her a weak smile, his skin paled with cold… but even so he slid off his coat and draped it over her dampened shoulders. Her shivers seemed to whittle down to stillness as she shot him the hint of a smile; the warm interior of the coat felt like he was still embracing her. Then, wearing merely his shirt and waistcoat, he led his daughter towards Covent Garden, unaware of the uniformed officer that followed close behind.

Her breath hit the raw air, her cheeks reddened, as she stayed close to Jean. The place was packed, as always; women bustling with baskets of fruit balanced on their heads, butcher's carts rolling by loudly, fishmongers packing great slabs of meat onto scales and bakers zipping in and out of the lines, trying to sell bread and rolls without the hassle of actually setting up shop. The line in front of them varied massively, middle-aged men, children, chimney sweeps, the rich and the poor, whole families. Jean gently pulled her closer, away from the carriages that thundered past them. 'Keep to the right side pet,' he said gently. With no traffic control pedestrians usually trudged up the right side of the road with carriages and horses on the left.

The two continued their somber trudge through the colorless streets, both cold, both tired, both longing for home. Through the crowds, one officer elbowed his way between people, eliciting curses from the mouths of indignant Londoners. Still, the two remained oblivious, until he'd crept up behind the jacketless male and the well-dressed girl.

All of a sudden, Javert's arm coiled around Valjean's throat, dragging him backwards. 'What the—' his arms flailed desperately, panicked by the sudden attack. Noticing him leave her, Cosette screamed as her father was lost for a split second among the sea of humans.

'PAPA!' She shrieked, whipping her head around. Catching sight of the two, her eyes widened in horror.

'Hey!' a Police Officer barked, striding towards the struggling pair. 'What the 'ell's goin' on 'ere?' he questioned. Valjean pushed with brute force, managing to free himself from Javert's grip. Having not seen the man's face, he turned on his heel angrily, tugging his waistcoat straight.

His eyes met with Javert's.

His heart stopped coldly in his chest.

As he backed away slowly, a shaking arm reached out for Cosette. Still frightened and bewildered, the girl clung to her father, her head switching between the three men, each with oddly contrasting expressions. 'I said, what the 'ell's goin' on 'ere!' The British officer repeated. Javert's steely gray eyes didn't leave Valjean's face for a second as he spoke, in fragmented English:

'Sir, this man is a criminal.'

Cosette gave a cold gasp.

'No!' she managed to sob. 'No… Ma Papa… Ma Papa… he's not a criminal!' Her eyes switched to Valjean's face, desperately searching it for a sign of confirmation. He remained still, dazed in shock. 'Papa?!' she gave his arm a gentle shake.

'You what?' the officer scrunched his face up at Javert in blunt confusion.

'This man,' he pointed towards the paralyzed Valjean. 'Is an ex-convict, who broke his parole and has been on the run for years.' Javert could almost feel himself swell with pride. This was it now. The years of relentless chasing. The weeks of hiding on that wretched boat, just so he could comprehend the man once he was on land; he could sleep easy in his bed now.

'Might I ask what the man's crime was?' the officer said placidly.

'Theft. Escape attempts… this man has made hell for our officers, slipping through our fingers every time. He needs to be locked away for good.'

'No!' Cosette cried. 'Ma Papa has done nothing wrong sir, I— _NO!' _

The English Officer had taken ahold of Valjean's arm, along with Javert, and had begun dragging him away from his daughter. Suddenly, Jean began to react. His eyes switched from emotionless to panicked as he began thrashing wildly, elbowing the two officers with all his might. Cosette felt her heart thunder in her ears as she put a hand to her mouth, horrified, desperate…. Oh God, this couldn't be happening…

'Eh, eh eh!' the officer barked, wrenching Valjean's shoulder backwards. Valjean's face twisted in pain as the socket of his arm was snapped viciously, but his fighting did not cease.

'COSETTE!' He called, to the child who was rooted, still, unmoving. Her hands were still pressed to her lips as a cry left her mouth. Tears slid down her cheeks as she began to sway silently, the image of her father being dragged from her blurring in front of her. 'COSETTE!' He cried again, clawing at Javert's arm. Using every atom of strength in his body he tried bucking away from the two men, only to have a third officer join the scramble. Jean groaned in anguish as his body was trapped between the three men, his strength seemed to have drained.

And Javert, with an unfathomable flood of triumph and relief, didn't seem to notice the girl stumble to the sludgy ground, sobbing as if her heart would break.

**Hands up who's a history geek? * guiltily raises hand * Yup, I'm pretty much hooked on anything set in the Victorian era, hence all the little nods towards geekery. **

**(Also, let me point out that I know Javert wasn't ****_actually _****after the two, and that it was just Valjean being paranoid about the Patron Minette; but in this AU version… yes… it ****_was _****actually Javert after them…)**

**Reviews would be much appreciated (;**


	2. Chapter 2

_Kiri's Lane, London, England_

Johanna's eyes remained open in the dead of the night. It was as if she couldn't bear to close them, for when she did, she'd be sucked into the abyss of sleep, into the hell of nightmarish darkness.

The same visions revisited her each night, like a punctual demon. The visions of her father's face, of the love that it bore. Those two weeks of bliss that she'd spent living with him, hiding in his shop on Fleet Street. The bond that could have stretched an eternity. And the love, oh such love, love she was sure would make her small heart burst.

But then would come the disconcerting feeling of dread. Then would come the dark mist, the omen of injustice, as her father's warmth was tugged viciously from her arms, and that look of love twisted into a look of sheer desperation.

After fifteen years, the two had been reunited. After fifteen years, they'd finally been together, and Johanna had learned to love once again… only to have that love torn from her.

But before the feet of the policemen thundered down the stone steps, before Benjamin Barker was forced from the embrace of his only child, he made a promise: As they sat huddled together in the darkness of Mrs. Lovett's bake-house, as she shivered in his arms, his rough voice came from above her head, warm breath rustling her hair. 'Johanna,' he had spoken. 'I'll find you again… I promise; when this is over I'll find you again.' She shook her head.

'No! Nothing's going to happen! Just stay quiet and—'

'Johanna,' He turned to face her. 'We are to be parted,' she let out a sob. 'But I want you to know that I love you, and that we _will _get through this. Umble-cum-stumble?' She managed a weak nod, clutching his arm.

'Umble-cum-stumble.' He'd kissed her yellow hair, and as the policemen slammed their noisy way into the bake-house, he'd whispered hastily in her ear:

'Chin up, chuck.'

That was it then. That was when the darkness devoured her. That was when she fell into a numbness, into a hollowness that was immune to pain.

But there was more to the agony of night-time than terrifying dreams. For when Johanna's eyes slid closed, the metallic click of a door pierced her hearing. Her eyes would snap open, glistening with unshed tears, as the breath that rustled her yellow hair turned high and uneven.

And his oh-so-gentle shushing sent a blade of eeriness through the darkness, as panicked breaths escaped her lips. But as his figure shifted nearer, as the bed descended in the dint where he sat, she let out a sad sigh, knowing she couldn't alter the fate that was to befall her.

And as his warmth and weight was transferred to her back she'd instinctively arch away from him, as he toyed with the fabric of her nightgown, felt the soft, pale flesh of her thigh, unmarred; perfect.

His clammy palms on her leg made sickness swill in her stomach, his ragged breath low and lusty… but she would stare straight ahead into the torture of darkness, pretending that he wasn't turning her onto her side, that he wasn't tugging her skirts from her legs…

And systematic thrashing would ensue. Not that it ever made a difference, for Johanna would soon succumb to him, fall limp on the bed as he had his wicked way with her. Although in the darkness he didn't see the small white glisten as tears of hate stung her eyes.

**Umble-cum-stumble = Understood**


End file.
